


Snatches Of Sanity

by D3moira



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:24:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D3moira/pseuds/D3moira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles based off prompts on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Anonymous: are you the Devil?. This became a short drabble about my theory of Harley’s origin for Suicide Squad, as told from her perspective. Dark themes, substance abuse, abuse in general.

There was that laughter, the one that made all the guards stiffen. It echoed and screeched around the empty room, the barred cage the main focus of this circus show. The clowns, parading around in their protective suits. The rats, doing flips and trips on a trapeze. Then there was the star of the show, Harley Quinn, the great, the mighty, the gorgeous. Not that she titled herself that, no, those were just a few key snippets from her last big show for Mistah J.

“Mn-nah. I’m no good at doin’ all that tricky-dicky talkin’. I’ve seen him, though, the devil. Boy, have I seen him. Hee-heee-he’s a real… Real charmer, that one. Could talk a person into anything, I tell yah.” Harleen knew the devil the first moment she had met him, even if she saw nothing but an angel. Pale skin, bright eyes, a wide smile, handsome and posied and that hair…

“Why y’wanna know? What’s it to yah, mmh?”

The thing is, the devil was once an angel. That’s what everyone always forgets. No one talks about all the good he tried to do, no. They just focus on how bad he is, and ooh, isn’t he such a meanie. But all the devil did was question god, right? And then he was cast down to where he now resided.

And he tried to help people, but he was a businessman about it. Never do nothing for free. Try to work an angle. Make a deal, shake a hand, be up-front. In Harleen’s opinion he was smarter, cleverer, and likely knew how to take a joke. The vilification was easier than facing reality, no doubt.

For Harleen Quinzel, the intern, the aspiring psychiatrist, she saw a smile. A real one, too! No one smiled without a reason around her before this so-called devil. No one tried to make her smile without an ulterior motive, whether they wanted information or sex or both. And then there was the devil’s smile, handed out to all with no expectations. He didn’t even ask her to smile too; it just happened.

If you were her, sitting in an Arkham uniform, wrapped up tighter than a present under a Christmas tree, you’d understand. You’d see that intensity, you feel that charisma, you’d have followed him, too.

You’d have met him in the same way she had, given all the secrets he’d never tell others. You’d have been inducted into his embrace. The feelings that slip through you, excitement, passion, need, all of it is a hundred times more than anything else you’d ever glimpsed. You had been existing and now you were living.

What happened next, that wasn’t the question. You were not guaranteed a tomorrow, or even a few minutes. And that was bliss. A sweet release from the routine you had know, the drawl of each day that left you less yourself than ever. You’d learn to love the pain as much as you learned to love the drugs, and you’d be stuck here, like her, giggling maniacally about things that only she could see and feel.

Whether she understood her surroundings or not, that was up for debate. From how her fingers danced around her face and the air, and how her features ticked with unintentional movement, it was hard to tell what she was thinking about.

“And you ain’t no devil. You don’t know… Don’t go around pretendin’ you do.” 

Things always seemed to just happen around that devil.

Like being stuck here, coming down from a high.


	2. Sock Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♦ | Prompt: homicidalgrin said: Harley!! Where are my socks??!!  
> ♦ | Summary: Snippet of Harley and Joker’s happy home. (Abuse, violence, generally dark themes.)

Life was sweet, for the first time in a long, long, long while. The Batbrain had hobbled off after their last soiree, and hadn’t been seen for a few days. Daaaaays. Wowie, she must’ve smacked him in the ribs harder than she’d thought, and she almost felt bad about it. Not quite, though. All the bat brats were snatching up the slack, sure, but the big B man wasn’t glooming around town. The skylines had a spoilsport-shaped hole, and it was especially noticeable to her sweetheart. 

Why, Harley had actually had a whole day of quiet time with Jay. As quiet as it ever was, with a man like him. They had had their quiet time, much to Harley’s chagrin, but then Jay shut her off, told her to beat it, to stop bothering him. A sick Bat meant a sad Joker, since he had no one to play with. Her poor little Mr. J, he would barely giggle when he shot a man in the foot, and didn’t even smile when the news blared that his hot air balloon strike on the hospital landed. He just sighed, and shrugged, and went back to his study.

Boring.

But all this moping was leading to something, she could tell. Mostly because if she even touched the door handle to his study, she’d receive a jolt and a half. Her hair was fried from it. She took the hint, focused on her time, and took to crafts such as a new gun hostler. Oh, and a cute pair of booties for each of her babies, Bud and Lou.

Oh, oh, and decorating her new bat, duh. She had broken her last one on Batman (not that she was bragging.)

After a full week of silence on Mr. J’s part (aside from when she saw him duck in and out of their his bedroom), he emerged with a raucous cackling. Harley had been painting her nails, which she guessed was moot now. She’d have them chipped in a minute, which blew… 

Ah well. She could always paint them again!

Judging from the widened gate, the manic eyes, the twirls, the Joker had a plan.Harley had no doubts it was gonna be some ingeniously whacked up, whacked out scheme to pull Batsy out of hiding and cure his own boredom. But Mr. J was not without his sense of theatrics… What would he be without presentation?

Harley smiled to herself as she heard him talking to bowties, and shoes, and gloves. Right down to the boxers, no less. All about which would do, and which would not. Harley snorted to herself as she blew on her nails, fondly eyeing the wall between them.

“Harley!! Where are my socks??!!”

Nerves choked her in a ring around her neck, till her cheeks were rosie. It was always the same sensation, the tightening, the muscles spasming, the hopeful eyes, the tears, and the worst part was, he wasn’t even in the same room as her. He didn’t need to be.

“Ahh... ah, which ones, sweetie?”

Harley knew exactly which ones. The same ones he had thrown aside when they’d gotten back from their last outing. She had asked if she could use them for her babies, and he’d said ‘whatever’, and she hadn’t thought twice, because he loved her, but now…

“No, but you said, Jay, you said you were done with those ones… The ones with the smiley faces on ‘em. Jay, honey…” Her babies, Bud and Lou, they had a baaaad habit of tracking blood all through the hideout. Joker said it would get them in trouble, that the cops would find them, so she’d cleverly made them a pair of footsie socks to wear while they were murdering, and then…

Then they could just pop them off and bam, no more blood tracks. She smiled reflexively, knowing how he hated to see her do anything but.

“We can get you a new pair! I’ll um, I’ll go, go get a pair, just exactly the same, just… Just give me ten minutes…” Whether she got the ten minutes or not, she couldn’t say. Things went awful dark, awful quickly, with nothing but a goose egg lump on her head and a split lip.

What a kidder, that Mr. J was.


	3. Guard Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♦ | Prompt: homicidalgrin said: blows a kiss @ 8`))))  
> ♦ | Summary: Disappointment hurts worse than broken bones.  
> ♦ | Warnings: Blood, violence, abuse, the usual for Harley and Joker.

Clink, clink, clink.

Normally, Harley liked the sound of chains. They had a sweet tinkling sound to them when they hung around you, and they ground and wore together when you fought them. Sometimes there was a sharper sound she couldn’t explain, when you tried to choke someone with them. You had to hear it for yourself.

The sound of the chains did nothing for her now, given the unforgiving hands on her upper arms, being pushed along a row of Plexiglas holding cells. They would have to keep her here, check her thoroughly for weapons and dose her up (if they needed to). But the thing was, all of this was usually fine, if orchestrated by her beau. Rough hands and chains and other things kept out of polite company, that was peachy keen for her.

But it wasn’t the same, not with these two. It was a pair of thuggish orderlies who failed to realize she was only playing nice because she may have a broken clavicle. It hurt badly through her throbbing adrenaline, and she wanted to play safe. For now. As soon as she had sussed it out, then the gloves would come off. But of course these idiots remembered her from when she had been a lil’ intern, shivering before her big, bad meeting with the Joker.

The changes that had happened since that day were innumerable. Oh but it was so funny though, because people thought she had warped into someone else, but all she had done was become more herself. With the help of her sweetie, she had begun to see her true self. But they didn’t see that, not her friends, or family, or these orderlies. They ignored her body count, her ferocity, and took her at her physical appearance. She looked up at them, pouty lipped and goo-goo eyed.

“Why you bein’ so rough on a first date?”

That made them flinch.

She smirked like a Cheshire cat, giggling slowly bubbling up through her throat. She never giggled before it all. Gigglers, especially cute blonde ones, were never taken seriously. The steel bat and gun had taken care of that, so now she could giggle freely, loudly, proudly. It was the way Mr. J liked her, most of the time.

Unless he was feeling especially sadistic, which did anything but elicit fear from her. Her toes wiggled in her prison-issued shoes, her lips turned into a goofy grin. Arkham just did that to her, and she could only guess why. She let roll a soft purr of a sound, her mind flashing through dozens of memories of this place on Mr. J’s happy days. 

“My daddy is gonna be sooo-oo–oooo MAD if you leave marks, so try not to, ‘kay?”

They looked so ready to fling her into the cell, where before they had been eagerly lecherous. And weren’t they always, these power hungry orderlies who thought physical might meant the world. They probably wanted to fuck her once upon a time, but had their misgivings now. 

“Lighten up boys, I screwin’ with you.” Harley coyly hip checked one of the men as they paused outside her temporary home, a completely exposed cube of glass. She hated this part. It made her feel so much like an animal at a zoo, but then she guessed there was some humor to it.

Harley wasn’t in the zoo just yet.

A faint, high-pitched cackling started and her eyes went wide. While she had allowed them to push her towards the cell, the sound made her snap. Her previously soft, pliable nature was now a hysterical screaming, laughter, glee. 

“He’s here!”

She slammed back against the orderlies, who were fighting the door shut. She bit into one of their arms, the paler one, his veins icky green under the light, the bite drawing blood. She couldn’t see it, but she could taste it. It coated her mouth, like a laughable imitation of her lipstick, and of the Joker’s smile.

The man stumbled, clutching his bleeding arm, while the other gawked. They must have been warned about her, right? There was footage of all her deeds, there was more than enough proof she could kill just about anyone, if she was so inclined.

“Jay!” She shrieked, ignoring the coppery tang of blood. Her chest hurt from her shout, from the fractured collarbone, the ebb of adrenaline. The second orderly, Paolo by the name tag, was sizing her up. The other one was crying on the floor, nursing the chunk that had been ripped from his arm. She just giggled away, looking expectantly around for the source of the laughter.

The chains were not a hindrance, they were a help. She worked them around her hands like knuckledusters, shooting an electric smile at her combatant. Oh, if her neck would just stop hurting. This guy was a pushover. The laughter intensified, bracketing the halls with mirth and glee. She stared wide-eyed at the orderly who seemed to have pissed himself at one point, which made her laugh, too.

What a fun day.

And then the door at the end of the hall burst open, the Batman flanking the Joker. Her mouth went dry, her vision exploded with hearts and stars. She was staring down the hall at her sweetheart, battered and bruised and bleeding, and she wanted to be sick. Her knees went weak, her heart hurt. Her poor baby. Her poor love. Her poor daddy, no – 

“Jay – “

She hadn’t noticed the bleeding orderly get his act together, snagging an arm around her waist. Her head slammed into the glass wall, her cheek smeared against the glass. The blood made red tracks down the wall. Her laughter was flying out of her like streamers at a parade, erratic, excited, nervous, terrified. She had mucked up a perfect escape attempt. If she had focused, she would have been able to kick these scrubs aside, then get Bats and…

And then the Joker blew her a kiss. Her stomach tore with nerves, her skin tingled, her mouth twitched painfully. His laughter resumed, but she didn’t miss the sharp look of disappointment in his eyes. She knew that would come back at her, later, when they were out. She felt tears forming, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

“I am in trooo-ooo-ooouble.” And a sharp sting took to her neck, and warmth rushed to her fingertips. The world began to fuzz at the edges, and fade, and all she could see was a split smile and sharp, green eyes.


End file.
